


2240 Miles (Roughly)

by shnuffeluv



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Child Neglect, Cover Art, Demisexual Steve Rogers, Demisexual Tony Stark, Epistolary, Established Relationship, Gift Fic, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Nonmonogamous Relationship, Not Even Remotely Canon-Compliant, Out of Character, Past Child Abuse, Sex, Tags May Change, Trans Steve Rogers, Trans Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23059108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnuffeluv/pseuds/shnuffeluv
Summary: This story is not your conventional love story. This story doesn’t include a “Once upon a time” but with any luck, it will have a “Happily ever after.” This story features love, loss, friendship, support, and most importantly, hope. This story is about two people, who, for the sake of this story, we will call Steve and Tony. And this story is the letters Steve writes to Tony.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedIsAWerewolf23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedIsAWerewolf23/gifts).



Dear Tony,

I’m sending this letter across two thousand two hundred and forty miles (roughly) of land, to tell you that I love you. Is that too forward? I know it may seem weird to send you a letter when we talk to each other literally every day online, but you know I’ve always been better at writing my feelings than saying them.

My mother has been doing it again.

I know, I know, when isn’t she? But it’s driving me up the wall. All day, everyday, I just wish she would stop. I don’t want to be guilt tripped, I don’t want to have to deal with the repercussions of forgiving her, or refusing to forgive her. And I wish that I could just move in with you and no longer have to worry about her, or my father, or any of my family, really.

Every time she apologizes, I just try to stay silent and let the rest of my family forgive her for me. I’m tired of my reflex being to say, “It’s okay,” when someone apologizes to me. Because it’s not always okay, and people need to understand that. _I_ need to understand that.

I love you so much. Not just because you’re you, but because you don’t apologize for every little thing. You let me say that something hurt me without me immediately feeling guilty for pointing it out. You don’t make me say “It’s okay” after you apologize, and you make sure that my saying “It’s okay,” is not just a reflex. You actually care about me, Tony, and that…that blows me away.

Most couples who are long distance say “I want you here,” in their letters, don’t they? Well, I would be lying if I said that was the case for me. I want to be _there,_ with you and your family and be free to be myself, but I don’t want you here. I don’t want you confined to one role, to one area of space, to a one-dimensional persona that could never offend anyone. I love it when you’re loud and proud and yourself. I don’t ever want you to hide that from me. Even if it’s around my family.

I hate that we have to pretend that you’re a girl around them. I know that my mother doesn’t like that I’m dating a “woman,” but I also know it would be ten times worse if I actually told her I was dating a man. Self-identifying as a man and as gay could very well land me in hot water, with no communication with you. And that is simply not an option. I love you, and I’ll do anything to keep in contact with you, so long as you consent to it. You mean that much to me.

I remember when we first met. You were alone in a voice call and I decided to drop in because I didn’t want you to be alone. You thought you were talking to someone else entirely for at least half the call, until Clint _actually_ joined and asked who you were talking to. That makes me crack a smile to this day when I think about it. And you gave me free range to infodump. Honestly, I loved you in that moment. Not in a romantic sense, not that early, but in the sense that I knew you were a good person, and someone who I’d love to hang around with. Never before or since have I been so happy to wake up early for no reason.

You said that you thought I was the cool one, someone who you were scared to talk to, but if anything, I think _you’re_ the cool one. You don’t let anything get you down for long, and you don’t mind if I swear, and there are just so many things about you that I could list off given time. Your smile. Your laugh. The ways you show your excitement. And you don’t show those ways to just anybody, no. It’s just with the people you love and trust. And I’m proud to be one of those people.

Before I finish this letter, I just want to say...thank you. Thank you for always seeing me for me, and not as anyone else. I know it can’t be easy, even when you’ve only ever known me as Steve. It can be hard to see myself as a man, some days. But you take one look at me and you never hesitate to use “he” and I just…love that. You take the time to see me for who I am. So I’m taking the time to tell you how I feel. It’s only fair.

I love you. I’ll see you in two thousand two hundred forty miles (roughly).

With Love,

Steve


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Tony,

I often dream about you naked.

I remember the last time we were together fondly. I remember fumbling with the strap on, and you patiently explaining how to pull it up my legs. I remember the noises you made as I played with your clit. And when I pushed into your folds, even though I wasn’t sure how well I was doing, you made sure to know I was doing a good job. I can’t wait until we meet again, so I can prove that I have learned more and help you come again and again.

When I masterbate, I often imagine your voice. I will be the first to admit that I have a praise kink, but when I think about you saying that I’ve been a “good boy,” that I’m doing well, that I’m making you proud, it drives me wild.

I hope it doesn’t weird you out that I’m telling you this. I genuinely worry that sometimes, I’m a little too graphic or I’m a little too out there with what I like. You say it’s okay, I know, but I still worry. It’s just a simple fact of life. I have anxiety.

God, I think about what I want you to do to me whenever we see each other again and it makes me squirm. I want you to cover me in hickeys, to pull my hair, to tell me I’m a good boy as you finger me to completion. I want to suck at your nipples again, because I remember that too fondly to just be a fleeting experiment. (At this point I’m realizing I may have a nursing kink, and honestly if that isn’t the most simultaneously hilarious and humiliating thing I can think of, then clearly I haven’t talked to you in the gutter recently.)

At some point, I do want to try bottoming. I enjoy pleasuring you more than I can say, but I want to know what it’s like to receive as well as give. Maybe next time we meet, we can buy a pack of condoms and exam gloves and give it a shot. Stretch me out and just get me ready. I’d be up to try it, as long as you were there to walk me through it.

Remind me to send you a video sometime soon. I don’t have a video, not right now, but I’ve been meaning to make one and send it to you. Either of me fucking that teddy bear you got for me or else maybe grabbing those fuzzy socks that my mother got me because they were on sale and give myself a bit of a good time. It wouldn’t be as good as it would be with you, but if I can replay you telling me I’m a good boy in my head, well, I’ll make it work.

A little random, but still on topic: remember when you painted a scene for me while I masturbated that same night I first tried the strap on? I got to be your dirty princess for a while that night, and not once was I hit with dysphoria. I thought that was interesting. Playing in a scene I don’t get as dysphoric as I would when playing a role around anyone outside the bedroom. I suppose it’s separation, or humiliation, or something, but whatever it is I’m grateful. Because it means that I could be your dirty princess again next time we fool around and I wouldn’t have an issue.

I hope that I don’t make you  _ too _ horny with this letter, I need you to be coherent enough to respond to my messages in a couple days or I might start to worry something besides my letter happened to you. (Not that my letter isn’t good, but I don’t think it’s the best thing in the entire world, not by a long shot.)

I love you. I’ll see you in two thousand two hundred forty miles (roughly).

With Love,

Steve


	3. Chapter 3

Dear Tony,

We’re on voice call right now and all I can focus on is the sound of your voice as we’re talking to our friends. Granted, all of us are blackmailing you so you’re not very happy, but I still love getting to hear your voice as you whine to us about the unfairness of it all. It’s fun to get back at you for all the times you have dragged us into various bullshit, regardless of the seriousness of the matter. Regardless of how fun that bullshit may have been, too, because at the end of the day, it’s still bullshit that probably could have been avoided and you know what stress does to my body.

I know, I know, I could have avoided the whole ordeal if I really wanted to, but I value getting to spend time with you, and I think you underestimate just how big an incentive getting to spend quality time with you is for me. I would push past all the stress in the world if it meant getting to spend time with you. Granted, I don’t know how much time would be spent with you, because all that stress does things to me and you might wind up berating me for being stupid more than you spend time with me just because.

One day, we’ll spend all our time together. One day, we’ll have moved in together and there will be times where taking breaks from each other might be the more refreshing option. I can’t wait for the day that I come home exhausted from work only to get to hug and kiss you and sigh about how kids these days have no respect. :P I can’t wait to get to cuddle you as we fall asleep, and you complain the next morning about me kicking in my sleep, or stealing all the blankets. I’m not sure you understand just how much I want that domestic shit.

Words are not my strong suit, at least not verbally. But I hope that I could detail to you exactly how much I would give just to spend time being domestic with you.

  * I would give up my time with my family for you
  * I would give up regular contact with whatever “real life” friends I have for you
  * I would give up having a car
  * I would give up getting a driver’s license
  * I would give up my computer if it meant I got to spend time with you



I would give up all of that and more, all for you. And I know that might not seem like much to some people, but you know me. You know how important those things are to me. Hopefully you understand. Hopefully, you know exactly what I am willing to do to get to spend time with you. If you don’t...I don’t know what to tell you. I’ve tried to communicate exactly what I feel, and if I failed, well, there’s always future letters to try.

I love you. I’ll see you in two thousand two hundred forty miles (roughly).

With Love,

Steve


	4. Chapter 4

Dear Tony,

We talked about that cursed chair a couple days ago and it has me thinking about us moving in together. Specifically, us moving into an odd house in the middle of suburbia. Because it’s unlikely we’d ever actually move there, but the thought itself is so very entertaining. Plastic flamingos on the lawns, barbeques and tiny children and the scandals that PTA moms have behind closed doors.

I think we’d have a fun time poking at others while somehow also resolving to move far, far away and never come back. Now, that might just be my trauma talking but I most certainly have issues with Karens trying to stop me from stimming and people being rude to either of us for being gay or trans. I would fight for your honor if I actually knew how to fight without dislocating my joints. And if it became apparent a fight was needed to save your honor, I’d still probably do it, because I love you that much.

You said you wanted me to be the one to propose (first), and I’m completely okay with that. I have plans that are already being put in motion in hopes that I can do it when the time is right. I would tell you those plans, but...well...that would ruin the surprise, now, wouldn’t it? Haha.

But us being married in suburbia is an entertaining thought. I always think of it along the lines of how suburbia is treated in Hollywood, rather than what it usually is. But that could be a fun writing idea, couldn’t it? Two guys recently moved to the suburbs who are polyamorous, and suddenly everyone around them is very hot. Dating simulator type thing. You know? Dream Daddy and all that.

Where was I going with this? I’m not entirely sure. I just figured I should write to you. It’s been a little while and I know we’ve talked but I really wanted to write even if I don’t have much to write about.

One of these days, I’m probably going to come up with questions to stick at, like, the end of every letter just to spark a response. That could be fun. You read them and tell me when we call next what the answer is? Would you like that? Am I starting it already? :P

I really appreciate that you let me stim around you. I don’t know if I’ve said that, but I’m glad that you feel safe stimming with me and you make me feel safe stimming with you. It doesn’t matter what the stim is, so long as it’s not self-destructive. And if I do something stupid like knocking my headphones off, you might laugh, but it’s not in a bad way. Just in a “you do that all the time” way and it makes me smile despite myself. I never feel like you’re laughing at  _ me _ and I think that’s really important. The fact that you go out of your way to make me feel safe and vice versa. I think anyone could see that we care a lot for each other, and I sincerely hope no one tries to tear us apart. Because having someone who I feel safe to stim around is really rare.

Even the family that understands my “quirks” will sometimes point it out and make me feel self-conscious. It’s a good thing that you don’t care. It’s a rare thing that you actually encourage it. And between you and me? All the bad stuff that I’ve gone through in my life? It’s worth it if it means that I get to be with you for the rest of our lives together.

Let me know what you think about the questions thing, I’d really like to know.

I love you. I’ll see you in two thousand two hundred forty miles (roughly).

With Love,

Steve


	5. Chapter 5

Dear Tony,

You know how I was worried that I would be next on the pecking order of people in our friend group who would be deemed toxic, kicked out, and ostracized?

Yeah. Look how that turned out.

At least we’re in this particular shit storm together? It feels a little less bleak with you by my side, you know. It still hurts, I won’t deny that, but it hurts a little less knowing I’m going to be with you. When we move in together we can find in-person friends who are less likely to cause this sort of infighting. Honestly, most everyone in that group acted like teenagers, when everyone was at least...nineteen, I think? Yet they still acted hormonal and impulsive and rather than talk things out they passive-aggressively made me uncomfortable until I was forced to leave.

I look forward to having mature friends. Friends who don’t mind talking things through to the end, rather than talking once and deeming the whole situation irredeemable. Fuck everyone who was against me, claiming that I was cheating. I remember having that conversation about an open relationship, and while my memory is bad I don’t  _ make up _ memories that I can ever truly remember. And you and I know the truth. So does Natasha. And that’s all that matters.

This whole thing is probably going to come to a head the next time I come in contact with those people who attacked me. Calling me delusional, when they know I suffer from paranoid episodes. Not a good look on them. And if I see them, things are probably going to get ugly. They’d have to start it, of course, but I would finish it. I wouldn’t want them just...thinking that they won, that I’ll be weak and submissive and bend to their will. No. You taught me better than that.

I will stand up for myself, and kick up a fuss if they don’t respect me. Because you taught me that I’m worth the effort I put in to love myself. And even if you, I, and Natasha are the only people in the world who love me, well, that’s enough. That is well and truly enough when you love me from head to toe.

Side note, I think I’m probably going with the label bisexual when queer won’t do. It just...feels better than pan, because pan isn’t quite the right fit. I know you don’t mind, might go as far as to say that you don’t care about labels, but I care sometimes. And this is one of those times. Bi-demisexual. I like the sound of that.

I didn’t have a lot to say in this letter, honestly. But I don’t want to needlessly drag this out. I’m tired and stressed from the last few days (has it truly only been a few days?) and I just want to send you this letter and my well-wishes. I want you to remember that I love you, always, no matter what. Even this doesn’t hurt enough for me to retreat from you to lick my wounds. You’d help me treat those wounds properly, and I appreciate that to no end.

So, the question of this letter, because I don’t think I ever asked, what’s your favorite flavor of ice cream? I feel like talking about light things after the heavy topic of this letter is a good idea.

I love you. I’ll see you in two thousand two hundred forty miles (roughly).

With Love,

Steve


	6. Chapter 6

Dear Tony,

Well, here we are. I finally got to move in with you. After my parents nearly kicked me out, I packed up my stuff and went to the airport and flew out to you. And here I am, writing one last letter to you. This won’t be the last of the letters I write, but it will be the last that goes with the rest of the letters that I’ve written to you long-distance. After all, we’ve moved in, and I like to keep things organized in my own way. Tacking on more of these letters in this category just doesn’t make sense in my head.

After all we’ve been through, I have so many questions to ask you, and I’ll start at the end of this letter, sound good? I have so many things I want to ask, so many things I want to learn, and now we have all the time in the world for you to answer them.

I can’t wait for us to be able to sleep in on the weekends, to cuddle for hours as we watch TV. For me to yell at my writing and you to just nod and say “I know” and listen as I go on a rant about how my characters refuse to listen to me. For us to love each other like there’s no one else in the world we’d rather be with, because there isn’t. Not to me, and not to you. Even in an open relationship, we’re there for each other one hundred percent.

I’ll find a job soon enough, and together we can save up enough to go on trips, on dates, on little days out where we do nothing but make heart eyes at each other. I would love nothing more than doing that with you. Because it’s with you, that makes all the difference.

I know I’m getting sappy. I just can’t help it. You make me so happy that my heart wants to burst. I’ll keep it going for you, though. I want us to stay together forever. How cheesy is that?

You’ve kept me safe for years, now. I’ve come to you and you’ve come to me and we keep each other safe, and level, and we give each other a shoulder to cry on when necessary. Two years we’ve known each other, but it feels like so much longer. We just...click. We’ve always just clicked in a way that makes everyone around us happy we’re together.

Your family is probably going to wonder what exactly is going on by the time I finish this letter. Honestly if you don’t cry I would be extremely surprised. Is that egotistical? I hope not. I’ve played out how this letter might go in my head for a while now, because I knew that I wanted to write “one last letter” to you ever since I started this.

So many things I want to tell you, so little time, and so little I can say without overwhelming both of us. You’re smart, and funny, and caring, and I love you so, so impossibly much for that. As I get closer to the end of this letter, I get more and more nervous. Much as I have played this out in my head, I truly don’t know how you’ll react when I go into questions mode. I want you to know that however you react, even if it’s just to tell me to shut up for a minute, I won’t hold it against you. I know that my talking can get extremely overwhelming if I’m not careful. And I want to make sure that you’re as comfortable as you can be when we’re just chilling out together and you’re reading this letter.

What I really want to say is...thank you. Thank you for being there for me, in the good times and the bad. Thank you for convincing me to stay alive longer for us to be able to have all the time in the world to hang out. Thank you for everything you do, because you make my world a brighter place because of it. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. I don’t know how to repay you, but I know where to start. By giving you a hug, and cuddling you every night I can, and peppering your face in kisses whenever I get the chance. Try and show you every ounce of love that you’ve shown me and more. If this is a competition, I don’t know who would win. I hope that both of us would, because we both get our favorite modes of affection from each other. We speak each other’s love languages.

I think I’ve dragged this out long enough. If you’re not overwhelmed by now I applaud you. It’s time for me to go into questions mode. (I can hear you saying “Oh god” as you read this, and if I got that right, I told you so, haha!)

The first question I’m going to ask in questions mode is one that’s been eating at me for ages. I’ve been waiting to ask it for a while, and it’s more important than favorite ice cream flavors, or where you might want to go on a date. It’s more important to me than any other question I’ve ever asked before, and I want you to know, with complete sincerity, I’m shaking as I write this and my heart is hammering, but it is a question that must be asked.

So...no use delaying it. I’ll make sure you can’t skip to the bottom line by adding some space, but know that this question has been eating me inside out, and it’s high time I asked. So...my love... _mio lupo..._

  
  
  
  
  


Will you marry me?

I love you so much. I’ll kiss you when you’re done with this letter. I’ve seen you in two thousand two hundred forty miles (roughly).

All my love,

Steve

**Author's Note:**

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